[Sorrow had seen some incredibly strange things in his lifetime. Like the transparent soldiers that hovered around his unitmates now and then...choking on blood from slit throats and gurgling insults to their murderers. Like the shrieking ghosts of men that had been blown apart by grenades only to find themselves looking at the scattered remnants
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...Terror. My dear brother, what kind of lucid dream might this be?
[it's difficult to be serious when a Fear has tackled you and your glasses are now crooked.]
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[He straightens his glasses] A year? Safe to say this place is quite strange, is it not?
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...Is there something I can assist you with, Major Raikov?
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Shit. [Ahem. Best be polite. The aura coming off of this one is disturbing.] It's just Raikov, sir. No Major. And no, sir. Totally not wishing I was back home where you were dead at all.
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[That smile is damn unnerving when paired with that particular look in his eyes, not that poor Raikov needs the intimidation.]
I do regret to inform you that you appear to be the one that is dead.
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[Sorrow might be smiling, but he's giving you a hard stare.]
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I find I could say the same of you. You are in all ways an image of myself save for one, my deceased friend.
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You're The Sorrow, right? Heheheh...?
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That is correct. And who would you be?
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Most call me Laughing Beauty, heheheh...but Laughing Octopus is acceptable as well. Tell me...what color of suits does your unit wear~?
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